for which you are obliged to your Kirk." "Ye have mentioned the greatest of oor obligations to it with which I am acquainted--it wad be weel, in my mind, if Parochial Schools were a' the kirk establishment in Scotland. "You are a Dissenter, I suppose ?" said I.---"No, truly," was his answer" there would be few Seceders, if a body cared as little about thae things as I do. But the world will become enlightened bit by bit. Dauvid Hume has weel remarked, that there is no resisting the silent progress of opinion. What think you, sir, of the doctrine of the perfectibility of the species?" "In truth, friend," said I, "that is a point on which I have not yet been able to come to any very determinate opinion; but I think you said you did not belong to any of the dissenting bodies here. You go to church, then, I suppose, in spite of any of your little objections to the establishment.". Objections!--Lord bless you, sir, I have nae objections to the church; in the present state of things, I'm persuaded the kirk is as good as any thing that could be put in its place--and I'm far from being clear that it would do to want some religious establishment for some time to come yet.---If poor Thomas Paine had been spared---but perhaps

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-(taking himself up)---perhaps ye may be of another way of thinking; I wish to say nothing unceevil," added he, with a most condescending grin,---"I hope I shall always respect the prejudices of my fellow-citizens---they are not to be trifled with, however erroneous."---" My good friend,” said I, “do not put yourself into any alarm; I assure you my feelings are in no danger. I am to suppose that you don't make a practice of going to church. Does not that appear singular in this part of the country, and give offence to the majority?" "Troth," said he, "to tell you the plain fact, I would not be so very heeding about the majority oot of doors---but a person of a liberal turn in my line of life, cannot always be quite sure of peace in his own house and home. The women,

says Hume, were always the chief friends of every superstition, and so I find it sir, and that in my own family. I've an auld mither, sir, a guid body too, in her way, that keeps me in perfect hett water. I cannot bring in Sandy Spreulls and Jamie Jamieson, and one or two more friends, to talk over a few philosophical topics on a Sabbath at e'en-but we're worried-clean worried-with the auld wife's bergin about infidelity and scoffing--and sic like :---why, it's only - Martinmas was a year, that when I was reading a passage from the Review, she gruppit the book fairly oot of my hand,

and had it at the back o' the coal, and in a low, before ye could say Jack Robinson-but I bear with a' that--as for the bairns, I find it absolutely necessary to allow her to tak her ain way wi' them. Puir things, they'll get light in time."-"I think you mentioned that you get the Edinburgh Review from a public library," said I,“ pray what sort of a library is it-and how are these things managed among you here?". "Oh--just in a small way, no doubt, as suits our meansbut we have a pretty collection in our library noo-we're aye on the increase--even in the warst times of a' we never would hear of parting with our books-we have David Hume's Essays, and several volumes of his Histories-we have Adam Smith-and Locke on the Human Understanding-and Voltaire's Novels and Lord Lauderdale's Inquiry-and the Pleasures of Hope-and Tannahill's Poems--the Queen's Wake-and Struthers-and Robin Burns, that's worth a' the poets that ever tried the trade, in my humble mind--and we have nearly a complete copy of the Encyclopædiaand we have the Edinburgh Review from the very beginning bound up, all but the three last numbers-and," added he, sinking his voice-" we have twa copies of the Age of Reason-and a gay wheen odds and ends besides, that we would not fain have ony body see but oorsells-but I'm sure, sir, an intelligent stranger like you might see our puir collection, if you would do us the favour to look at it.""I am very much your debtor," said I-" and have you no meetings of a regular kind to discuss the subjects of all your reading?" -"Why, yes," he said; "we are pretty regular in the winter time-the Sabbath nights for ordinary-and aş for simmer, we commonly take a walk to Ruglen, four or five of us, and have a quiet crack during sermon time at auld Jock Blair's-him that was in trouble lang with Thomas Muir-he keeps a public there noo."

I would gladly have prolonged the conversation a little farther, but I heard the hour at which I was engaged sounded deep and hollow from the huge clock of the Cathedral, to which all the minor horologes of the city made ready response in their various tones of shrillness and clamour. I was therefore obliged to bid the weaver good bye-and to make the best of my way to my hotel, and from thence to Mr. 's. What a sad picture is here of the state of these conceited creatures! Truly, I would hope this fashion of superficial infidelity may not be far from going out altogether,

now it has got so very low down in the scale. After I had walked a good many paces toward the city, I looked back to the bench where I had been sitting, and could scarcely contain my laughter, when I saw the disciple of David Hume sitting with his arms folded solemly upon his breast, drowned, apparently, to the very edge of his greasy night-cap, in some of the same profound meditations from which my intrusion, had for a little space withdrawn him.

Ir was with great sorrow, I assure you, my dear Potts, that I found by your last letter that you are again laid up with an attack of your old complaint. From your description of the symptoms, I apprehend no danger, but still you cannot be too cautious, and I recommend you to take particular care of yourself for a month or two at least. I wish to God I bad you under my hands. I am quite sure I know your constitution better, and could care you sooner than any other practitioner-What is even Mr. Cline, with all his genius, to me, that have known you ever since you had the measles ?

"Experto crede Roberto."

The truth is, my good lad, that, after all, you have need of very little beyond what nature puts in your own powerbut, my dear Potts, do take good care of yourself, I beg of you. Do not proceed in the old courses, my good fellow,do not drink such enormous quantities of Vauxhall punch at night, nor smoak so many segars at the Cyder Cellar, nor guzzle so much Burton ale at that house in Henrietta Street, nor make a point of swallowing as much flip as would swim a goose at the Shades, nor give such liberal orders for champagne at the Cheshire, nor discuss such a quantity of gin twist at the Blue Posts, and the One Tun, nor go so often to that vile alley that runs between King Street, and Pall Mall, nor sit so late at Roubel's. In a word, you must re

member that the indiscretions of a day are sometimes paid for by the sufferings of years. Do, now, turn over a new - leaf, and I have no doubt that my physic, and your own sobriety, will soon make a man of you again.

I am glad, however, to find that the arguments I employed in my former letter, to induce you to visit Scotland, bave not wholly failed of their effect. But you have been accustomed to move in so extended a circle of society, that you seem rather dubious whether you could easily reconcile yourself to the more limited one, to which in this country you would necessarily be confined. You are clearly unwilling to curtail the sphere of your attractions from ten thousand people to three hundred, and imagine that those blandishments which have procured you the character of a man of fashion at Almack's, would be utterly thrown away when displayed to a small set of female Sawneys in the George Street Assembly Rooms of Edinburgh. Believe me there is more vanity than sound reason in this anticipated objection, as I shall very briefly demonstrate. You remember, three years ago, how we walked the Gallery of the Louvre (then in its glory) together, and expressed our admiration of the most striking beauties which there fell under our observation. I say the most striking beauties, because it was only those which we had then either time or inclination to remark. We gazed with reverence on the mighty works of Raphael, Rubens, Domenichino, and Michael Angelo, because much of the excellence of these great artists is perhaps too glaring and prominent to be overlooked even by the most casual and ignorant observer. But how many of the most exquisite masterpieces of art, of the most transcendent works of genius, did we pass over like so much waste paper. How many fine Guidos and Corregios, how many Claudes and Pousins, did we gaze on, with as much indifference as we do the sign of the Blue Boar in Fleet Street, or the Swan with two necks in Fetter lane ?-paintings with which, our eyes undazzled by so extensive and brilliant a collection, we could not choose but have dwelt upon with admiration and delight. A fine man, my dear Potts, is like a fine picture. To be seen to advantage, he should be seen alone; at all events, he should never be surrounded with rivals quite as beautiful and brilliant as himself. The centre diamond (and it's a very fine one) of your grandmother's ring, whatever admiration it may attract on your finger, would pass quite unnoticed if transferred to the necklace of Mrs. Long Wellesley. At pre

sent the young ladies at the Opera and Almack's regard you with the most mortifying spirit of indifference. But only make your entré in Edinburgh Theatre, and I will bet you two to one, either in fives, tens, poneys or hundreds, that the box in which you are seated will form precisely the point to which all the opera-glasses of the Scottish spinsters will be immediately directed.

Another piece of advice which I have often given you before, but which I cannot help once more earnestly repeating, is to get married. It was all very well to laugh at these things, as we used to do some ten or fifteen years ago; but we are all getting on, Potts, and depend upon it, if you allow other ten years to slip over your single blessedness, you will not find it so very easy a matter to noose yourself to advantage. The truth is, I have a fine buxom widow (and, without flattery, you are just the man for a widow) in my eye for you. She is just about your own age, with a fine languishing pair of black eyes, and a fortune of thirty-thousand pounds, besides a large sugar plantation in Trinidad. Her husband only survived the honey-moon about a fortnight;---she was a most inconsolable widow for many months, and still continues to wear weeds for the " dear defunct." I have often heard you say you liked a high-spirited woman, and express much contempt for those "dull domestic drudges," as you call them, who are contented to sit pacifically at home, making puddings or darning stockings for their husbands. I assure you, you shall have no such complaint to charge on Mrs. F, who, though I have no doubt, with such a husband, she will have too much good sense to attempt to wear the breeches, yet is altogether too well informed of her rights not to stick up for her own. The mode of my becoming acquainted with her is too singular to be passed over in silence. When sitting quietly at breakfast, with my friend Mr. W, at the Hotel, we were suddenly alarmed with the most dreadful outcries from a neighbouring house. On running out to ascertain their origin, we found them to proceed from Mrs. F, who it appeared had broken her leg by an over-exertion in the act of kicking an impudent footman down stairs. I immediately made an offer of my professional skill, which was thankfully accepted, and thus bad many opportunities of improving my acquaintance with the agreeable widow. With such a fine high temper as she has, I should be almost afraid to recommend her to any friend but you for a wife. But you are not a man to be henpeck